


Collecting People

by In_Dee



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:26:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23475421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Dee/pseuds/In_Dee
Summary: A glimpse into the past…
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	Collecting People

**Author's Note:**

> Something a bit different in these trying times.  
> Stay safe everyone!

She glanced around yet again. It was somewhat risky meeting with her contact here, but then again, they were hiding in plain sight, amongst shoppers, street vendors, people grabbing a coffee and people relaxing at the park which in turn lowered the risk to the meeting agents. Sometimes it was easier blending in with people than meeting in some downtrodden alley after dark. Plus… those dark alleys were just so _cliché_.

A business man caught her attention as he lingered slightly longer than he should, holding onto his coffee mug with a white-knuckled grip. Shifting, ready to abort the mission, she only relaxed slowly when someone else approached the man and they exchanged a nervous greeting before heading off together.

Obviously there were more clandestine meetings going on here.

Smiling slightly, she leaned back in her chair, once more letting her attention wander and look at the people around her, assessing threats without being obvious about it.

Her gaze caught on a young boy of maybe ten years sitting at the stone wall surrounding the fountain. He obviously wasn’t a threat - not even the Agency recruited people _that_ young - but something about him drew her gaze. He was young and scrawny, his clothes looked old and - if one was generous - well-worn… if one was brutally honest, they were threadbare. There was a bow to his shoulders that spoke of having seen and endured too much for his young age.

Leaning forward in her seat and tilting her head, Hetty watched him curiously as he was seemingly focused on something or someone else. She followed his gaze, shifting slightly in her seat to see who or what had grabbed the boy’s attention.

There were several people in the boy’s line of sight and she couldn’t decide why any of them were of interest to the boy; neither the young mother with the toddler, nor the gardener sorting his tools, the homeless man digging through the trash or the older gentleman limping across the street - possibly a Veteran considering his limp wasn’t the only visible impairment.

She turned back to the boy but found his focus undisturbed. She was about to turn back to where he was concentrating on when he shifted.

Literally.

Hetty straightened with a gasp when - right in front of her - the boy changed. His whole posture changed, his left shoulder dropping, the fingers of his left hand curling slightly. His head tilted a little and his facial expression morphed as well, his eyes drooping and his lips curling into a grimace. His left eye started twitching.

Her head swiveled back around to where he was staring and she instantly found the boy’s unaware model: the Vet who had limped across the street. The boy was mimicking the man’s posture and _damn_ he got the man well portrayed. The boy even managed to incorporate the _world weary_ vibe that radiated from the man.

Blinking in astonishment, Hetty turned back to the boy and saw him drop the act, returning to just being the young boy she had noticed minutes earlier. He shed the man’s mannerisms like a duck shed water from its coat. The weariness remained, but then again, there had been some of that visible in the boy before he had become someone else right in front of her eyes.

Hetty glanced around, wondering where the boy’s parents were but finding no one who might fit the description. He was much too young to be out here alone in her estimation, but there didn’t seem to be anyone else that he may belong with.

She watched the boy look around as well and a few moments later, his focus became sharp once more. Hetty yet again followed his gaze and looked for what she suspected might be a new source of inspiration. She turned back in time to see him straighten. Even sitting down, he was drawing himself up to his full height - which wasn’t all that much, but then again, Hetty knew better than to let height become a factor in determining a person’s value - and out of his previous defensive curl. His arms lowered and hung loose by his side as his expression became what Hetty could only call ‘condescending’. He glanced down at his wrist in a jerky motion at where a watch would be.

Hetty instantly knew he had found his mark in the one she had pegged as a lawyer in a fancy suit in her brief glance around. And again, the boy had managed to perfectly copy another person’s movements while incorporating mannerisms and stance.

A soft laugh escaped her and Hetty shook her head incredulously.

The boy was collecting people.

Whatever for, he was building a repertoire of people, mannerisms and ticks… and he was one of the best Hetty had seen so far in her career - despite being a boy of barely ten years of age.

Hetty glanced up when someone approached her. She glanced back away when the man passed her table and put an envelope down. Taking a sip of her tea, she idly reached for the small rectangle and put it away in her pocket. All the while, her eyes remained on the boy, watching as he went through another transformation - one he obviously wasn’t happy with at the first go as he shook himself with a scowl before trying again.

Her own meeting over and done with, she allowed herself to linger, curious about the boy. She finished her tea, all the while watching him without him noticing. He was good at observing people, their mannerisms and copying them, but he didn’t notice her watching him. Still, Hetty’s interest in the boy was picked and she only rose from her seat at the café when the boy glanced at the clock tower and hopped off the stone wall.

His whole posture screamed reluctance and he sighed, his shoulders curling forward and his head dropping, his chin tucking down to his chest before he turned and started meandering away from the fountain.

Hetty idly followed him through the busy streets. Evening rush hour had set in and she nearly lost sight of the small boy several times.

The streets gradually became smaller and more forbidding. The buildings seemed to loom and the shadows deepened. The social class shifted from posh to lower middle-class within a few blocks.

The boy’s steps slowed down, reluctance and unease making his steps heavier. Eventually, he stopped in front of a medium sized house. It was not well kempt, but also not decrepit. It looked as if the owner didn’t care about upkeep and Hetty’s eyes lingered on the boy, wondering if the same held true for the safety and wellbeing of the boy.

A woman appeared on the veranda and the boy tensed, drawing his head in even further and pulling his shoulders up to his ears.

Even from the distance, Hetty could hear her accusing him. “You’re late!” the woman snapped and the boy’s shoulders curled forward, making himself even smaller than he already was.

Hetty frowned heavily when the woman reached down and grabbed the boy by the upper arm, dragging him up the stairs and pushing him into the house in front of her, talking to him in hushed tones and sibilant hisses. Hetty was too far away to hear what was being said, but it was obvious, the woman was berating the boy. The door slammed shut behind them.

Making a note of the name on the post box and the address, Hetty left, quietly contemplating the young boy who had a talent for becoming someone else.

Xxxxxxx

It was several weeks and two out-of-country missions later before Hetty finally got the chance to follow up on the boy.

The address she had tailed the boy to was registered to a Dean and Shirley Miller. The boy wasn’t theirs though, but a foster child - one of five. Once she discovered that, some of the things she had seen - from the threadbare clothes to the boy being on his own despite his young age - suddenly made sense.

Hetty didn’t approve.

Finding out more about the boy proved a little trickier since by the time she caught up with the information, the boy had been moved from the Millers to somewhere else. She waded through several files - files she probably shouldn’t have access to considering she wasn’t in fact a worker at CPS despite her nosing around in their file archives as if she belonged there - until she found herself looking at the photo of the boy that had impressed her so much.

The name that went with the photo sent a jolt of electricity through her: G. Callen.

She instantly opened the file and leafed through it. There wasn’t all that much personal information.

She was somewhat shocked to find the boy was already twelve years of age. She was usually a good judge of age and in kids, she found there was a marked difference between ten and twelve. The boy had looked much younger than his biological twelve years, smaller than his age.

She shook her head, deciding to dwell on that later, continuing to skim through the file:

Parents: unknown

Sister: Amy Callen, deceased.

Hetty leaned against the filing cabinet and sighed heavily. The names alone could possibly be a coincidence… _Callen_ wasn’t that uncommon a name, but the girl’s eyes that stared up at her from the photo included in the boy’s file… Hetty would know those eyes anywhere. They were Clara’s eyes.

But… just how had those two kids wound up in America?

The mission to get Clara out of Romania had been aborted and reports of her death had followed. Hetty had mourned her, had raged in private against the Powers That Be for abandoning the young woman.

That had been seven years ago and no one had found anything about the kids’ whereabouts.

And now the boy was here… in America… in Los Angeles even.

Hetty shook her head.

Straightening, she pushed away from the filing cabinet and left the room, casually strolling through the building occupied by CPS and copying the file in her hand before returning the original to where she had found it. Eventually, she would make certain to destroy the family information. The safer the boy was from his parent’s enemies, the better.

Until then, she had some reading to do.

Knowledge was important in her line of business and over the years, Hetty had begun to understand that she had a talent for finding information and using it at the right time.

She would need to find out more about G. Callen and see if there was a way to subtly guide the young boy.

Xxxxxxx

It was only a few years later that Hetty took an active role in the life of G. Callen.

She had watched from afar ever since she had found him, had carefully tried to interfere with some of Social Service’s more outlandish ideas concerning the boy, but admittedly, Callen didn’t make it easy.

He was labeled as a troublemaker, and he was rotated through foster homes or group houses faster than most people changed socks. It was often difficult to keep up with the boy’s official whereabouts and he would sometimes vanish from the face of the earth for weeks on end.

It was worrisome but Callen resurfaced eventually, usually found by some well-meaning police officer, thrusting him back into the system… a system that didn’t care for him and that he didn’t care for in return.

Hetty only had the official reports from Social Services, but her gut told her that the boy’s take on the happenings described in those files would be different from the Social workers’.

She had warred with herself multiple times over the years, had considered stepping forward and bringing the boy officially under her wing, but her own position in life and in her government work for a long time didn’t allow for it.

Only when he was being sent to a Juvenile Detention Center for robbing a storage locker, Hetty decided enough was enough. She felt deep down that if she didn’t interfere now, she would lose the boy.

Still, G. Callen nearly tore down her carefully crafted plans by escaping from the Juvenile Detention Center and crashing a car while being re-arrested.

By then though, Hetty had powerful friends and was influential in her own right.

It was in the street, in front of a car wreck, that she came face to face with G. Callen for the first time - that he knew about it.

Hetty stopped in front of the teen, noting his rugged appearance, the weary and exhausted look in his eyes. She smiled slightly, because she did have to give him credit… he certainly didn’t do things by halves: breaking out of the Detention Center, stealing and crashing the car after he had nearly managed to evade the police…

“Very impressive, Mr. Callen. Very impressive, indeed.”


End file.
